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New York, New York
by BehrBeMineChapter One: On a Jet Plane
Feedback: I'm nervous about this one... Any comments you might have would be extremely helpful. I really hope you like it!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Don't sue, I'll cry. ;p
Summary: AU -- I have turned the world upside down. What if it wasn't Ephram's family that suffered the loss of a beloved someone? What if therefore they never moved to Everwood? Amy leaves the safety net of her hometown to get away from the tragedy that haunts her.
Rating: PG (for now)
Distribution: Just please let me know and we'll be good.
Classification: Ephram and Amy
Spoilers: Up through January of 2006.
Beta: Thanks to Roxy, Christine, and Mom for looking this one over. Your comments are much appreciated.[ * ]
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"The hardest thing in this world is to live in it. Be brave. Live. For me." -- 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer'She was a bee being drawn to honey. Arriving on a jet plane from a far-off small town in Colorado, she shed the Everwood in her and stepped into a new life, what she hoped would be a glamorous life, one to make her forget so much that had come to pass. Those so easily punished learn their lessons well. Those so easily punished live in constant fear of being punished again. She looked to start over, to begin a new life, being a new person, creating new memories... and leaving pain behind her, where it belongs, and where she prayed it would stay.
Her name was Amy Nicole. She was a dancer, headed to Julliard to dance her heart out. Some would say she was an exceptional dancer; others, less knowledgeable of dance, would nod and agree that she was quite good. All in Everwood would stand from their seats and applaud, at her tiny recitals, like the spectators at some grand opera. She remembered the applause, the graceful bows, the roses in her hands, the small cards thrown at her feet. Always one from Mom: "Way to go. Nothing gives me more reason to be proud of you than who you are. Who you have always been. Who you will always be."
The honey of New York City was sticky, like Spider-Man's nets, ready to catch and enslave such an innocent by-stander, a young girl who so obviously didn't know her way around, and had no idea where she was going. Where should she go first? What to do first when you're finally in a city that you've dreamed of for a year, ever since... ever since fate crushed your heart into sand made from petals. The petals that fell from the dancing roses in your arms.
For the first time in her life, Amy was all alone. No big brother at her side to give her wet willies and strut around as if he was the new it in whatever cocky fashion he chose; no father bustling about with a written list of schedules -- where to go to, where you're coming from, why you're there; no mother... no mother at all.
Should she feel free? She didn't know. She suddenly felt cold, and embraced herself. The simple spaghetti-strap shirt that she wore suddenly didn't seem to cover enough of her delicate little body. This shirt, in a perfect shade of pink to match the plum blush on her cheeks, with faded jeans adorned with small patches of tears in the fabric, complimented her features. But perhaps it stopped at just that. She didn't know if she was just being paranoid, or if she really didn't fit in with this big city crowd.
The plane ride had seemed a long one. Sitting next to her had been an aging black woman, who looked to be in her sixties. Amy didn't know, really. She was a horrible judge of age. People often thought her to be younger than she actually was. Although it used to bother her as a child, she now took it as a compliment, as it would mean a lot when she reached ages like seventy, and battled to defend her youth. The woman beside her was named Patty, and asked kindly if this was Amy's first trip to "the city".
"Yes," Amy said, then became apprehensive: "How can you tell?"
Patty laughed lightly. "It's in your features, child. You're tight, protective, in your shell. You're all wound up. Don't you worry. The city'll beat the scaredy-cat out of you. Why, I've lived there for more than thirty years. I'm just coming home from visiting my son for the summer. It'll be nice to get back to my flat. Nice to get home again..."
Home. Everwood didn't feel like home anymore. Not since... well, not since fate came and left, taking its casualty. Amy looked to New York to be her new home.
"So the city makes you tougher," she guessed out loud.
"That's one way of putting it," said Patty with a kind smile. "You look so delicate. But I'll bet you're not. I'll bet you're made of steel. People used to call me a frail little thing, and just look'it how I've survived. All of my siblings are dead. Who would've thought I'd be the only one left in the end..."
"Made of steel..." Amy shifted in her seat, cleared her throat, tossed her hair. Her much shorter hair. She had cut it from her waist to shoulder length. A new look for a new life. A way to start all over again. Steel. She would be steel. Weakness was preyed upon in all places, not just those with skyscrapers. She had learned to bandage her wounds. And she had learned to hide what should be hidden from those who shouldn't see.
"You're a student, I'll bet," Patty went on to say. "Going to school in NY?"
"College. Yes. First year."
Patty's eyes widened.
"I'm a dancer," Amy continued.
Patty's face softened. She gave Amy a warm smile. "Dancing. Now that's the stuff. And don't you just look the part, all spry and little. And look at that toned muscle, let me see that arm!"
Amy laughed and showcased her arm for her fellow passenger to see. Not an inch of fat on it. Well crafted from so many grueling hours of work. The process can sometimes be so ugly in order to create something so beautiful. In that way Amy would compare dancing to giving birth. The hardest work you can imagine, but oh, the payoff at the end. Beauty. And flowers of congratulations to sit on your window sill.
"Well," said Patty, "I'll leave you be, angel child." She pulled out some crossword puzzles and set to work. Amy drew her discman from the small carry-on bag at her feet. She lulled herself to sleep with lyrics that soothed her soul. I want to learn how you save yourself for someone who can love you for you...
She thought of things long since buried. Or things that were supposed to be buried a long time ago.
She saw Colin's face, smiling with the idiotic wisdom of a pumped-up thirteen year-old, laughing as Bright carried her over his shoulder to kick her out of the room. "You can come back later, Grover," Colin assured her, giggling behind his hand. "We just need some alone time."
"Yeah, like without the annoying baby sister around," put in Bright. "'Oh, Mom, Bright said 'hell' four times yesterday.' 'Mom, Colin kicked me.' 'Daddy, they're being mean.'"
"You are being mean!" she fumed. "Mean, mean, mean! Let me go!"
"What's that?" mocked Bright, still carrying her slight form bent over his back. "Make the wind blow?" He nodded at Colin, who turned on the big fan in the window.
"Let me go!"
Bright appeared to strain his ears. "Sorry, Ames, can't hear you. You said you're a big ho?" She screamed. "We should toss you to-and-fro? Your flat chest will never grow?"
"Daddy!" yelled twelve year-old Amy. "Daddy, they're torturing me again!"
"Oh, man," said a disappointed Colin as all three heard footsteps coming up the stairs. The stairs later had carpeting on them, but not till a few years later, when Harold and Rose learned that their steps preceded them in enough time to constantly warn the kids they were coming. It was the same in this case. Bright dropped Amy right where he stood. She crashed to the ground, head first.
She yelled out in pain. "Bright, I'm gonna make you pay for that! You're going to be so dead!"
"Ooh, cat fight," Colin exclaimed, scratching the air with his nails. "Kill him, Grover."
"Du-u-ude," Bright complained. "Whose side are you on?"
"Sorry," Colin quickly amended. Then he raised his eyes to the doorway.
"Bright," Harold said, his voice tired. "Have you dropped your sister again?"
"She asked me to," said Bright.
"Bright! Shut up!" Amy screamed, then ran off down the hall.
Colin laughed again. "Run, Grover, run!"
Somebody was shaking her awake. "We're here, sweetheart," said Patty, looking into Amy's blinking eyes. Amy frowned, at first not realizing where she was, and who was in front of her.
"Wha?..."
"Darling, we're in New York. You're on the plane. Remember?"
Amy removed the headphones of her discman, turning off her favorite song. "Oh... right. Thanks. Sorry. I'm... I just got lost, is all."
"Bad dream?"
"No." Amy sat back. She smiled faintly. "Not so bad at all."
When she got off the plane, she saw a mirage of faces. Previously, when she had been here to audition, it had been with her father, who had so quickly ushered her through the hustle and bustle. "Must move quickly or you'll focus on the amount of people and get stressed out," he reasoned. "Quickly now, quickly!" He hurried her along.
She had found the hurrying to be the stressful part. Now that she was on her own... she wanted to smell the roses. She could almost feel the weight of them in her arms, could almost sense the small pricks from the thorns. She glanced down at one of her arms to see that it was fine. She held her bag to her solemnly, watching everyone go by. "Bye, sweetie," said nice old Ms. Patty, giving her a pat on the shoulder. "Good luck. When you dance, think of whatever it was that put such a smile on your face."
Amy looked at her thoughtfully. She pictured Colin, her first love. Her only love. "I will," she promised.
She would.
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to be continued...
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